


Sometime Around Midnight

by hato



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Break Up, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hato/pseuds/hato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Then Esca’s smiling and telling Marcus to take care of himself. And walking away. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometime Around Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> **Inspired by and Title borrowed from:** _Sometime Around Midnight_ by Airborne Toxic Event.
> 
> **A/N:** Written for Annie :) 
> 
> **WARNINGS:** Ridiculous angst, drunkenness, incredibly bastardized version of Cub, not exactly happy fluffy make-up sex afterward.

Marcus is doing well.  
  
Smiling broadly, laughing. Sipping his whiskey and ice. Leaning against the bar beside Drew as they discuss rugby and football with Cub.  Enjoying his younger friend’s enthusiastic signing and his older friend’s deep chuckle.  Favorite pub crowded and loud and warm and inviting and perfect on this long, winter night.  
  
A nice Saturday night out with his mates. Time away from his cold, empty flat.  
  
But he’s doing well.  
  
Marcus feels good, the whiskey warming his insides, easing some of the tension of a long work week.  He works twice as hard now. It helps him to forget. And by Saturday night his friends are happy to help him forget.  Marcus appreciates their efforts. Support. Encouragement. A reason to laugh and smile and not think.  The music is a bit loud, though still muted under the din of conversation. He catches a few lyrics here and there, enjoying it idly as Cub’s hand signs begin to stutter with his excitement. Drew laughs and orders another round.  Lager, whiskey neat, whiskey and ice.  
  
A rush of noise, people descending the stairs from the top floor of the pub. Waves of people and in the middle of it all Marcus hears a laugh, clear and distinct in the cacophony. Turns his head. Gaze searching.  Finds the familiar figure standing across the room in the midst of half a dozen people he doesn’t know.   Back to Marcus, but Marcus recognizes the line of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, the casual grace of his easy stance.  Recognizes that laugh that fills the air again. Recognizes that white button-up shirt that Marcus ripped the buttons off of the very first time they fucked nearly two years ago.  
  
Esca had sewn them back on himself.  
  
Marcus can’t look away. He can’t run. He can’t hide.  
  
Esca turns his head, meets his gaze. And the entire world stops.  
  
Green eyes and grey eyes lock, gazes widen. Stunned. Panicked. Marcus can feel the heat flaring up in his face. Swallows the lump in his throat.  Tries not to think or feel or drop the fresh glass of whiskey Drew just ordered him.  
  
And then Esca jerks his face away, gives his attention and smile back to the young lady at his side. The glass in his hand tight against his chest.  
  
Marcus does the same, looking back to Cub but unable to follow the signs now. Unfocused. Distracted.  Brings his own glass to his mouth and barely tastes the expensive liquid pouring down his throat.    
  
Flickering looks. Awkward glances. Quickly averted eyes.  
  
Drew excuses himself, needing to step onto the patio for a fag. Cub follows because he always follows Drew.   Marcus is left alone at the bar, nursing his drink and forcing his attention toward the small telly in the corner displaying a news channel.  Risks a glance back and immediately regrets it. Esca walking toward him, determined.  
  
And Esca asks how Marcus is doing as he leans past him to place the empty glass on the bar. Wash of cologne, light sweat, body heat. Marcus feels dizzy, almost sick. Remembers the last night they spent together with Esca’s body curled tightly around his own. Whispers and gentle touches before the anger and accusations the next morning. Remembers every moment before that in achingly vivid flashes behind his eyes. More than a year together. Wasted.  
  
Marcus tightens his grip on his own drink, pushes something like a smile to his face, and murmurs a reply. Marcus can’t take his eyes off him.  Can’t stop remembering now, after all the months of forcing himself to forget.  Wants to say something else as Esca gives him one of those piercing looks.  
  
Then Esca’s smiling and telling Marcus to take care of himself. And walking away.  
  
Marcus watches him walk back to the young woman that Marcus has never seen before. Brunette, freckles, a lovely little thing. Watches Esca get both their coats, helps the girl into hers, head to the door.  
  
Watches Esca toss one last look over his shoulder before disappearing just as Drew and Cub sidle back through the door.  
  
Marcus feels sick, utterly sick, and downs his whiskey in one long swallow. Orders another. Ignores Drew’s questions, Cub’s hand on his shoulder.  
  
Orders another.  
  
And another.  
  
Can’t take anymore of the laughter and warmth and orders another. Not listening to Cub. Not listening to Drew.  Smothering in the scents and sounds of companionship that only serve to remind him of what he’s lost. What he let walk out the door just now.  
  
Orders another.  
  
Says goodnight to his friends and shrugs off the offers of cabs and company home.  
  
Marcus stumbles through the streets, hunched in his suit jacket against the icy drizzle. Vaguely aware of other people on the sidewalk, stepping out of his way, irritated comments and muttered curses.   Bumps into a shoulder and hastily slurs out an apology. Attempts to straighten up and take notice of his surroundings instead of wandering like the drunkard he is.  
  
He was walking home. That’s where he’d meant to go after leaving the pub. But this is the river and he’s on the wrong side of it.  Marcus wipes the rainwater from his face, pulls his jacket closer.  Freezing fucking cold. Shivering.  He’s on the wrong side of the river and Esca’s flat is just two blocks away and he’ll just wander by and see if there’s a light on.  
  
He won’t stop. He won’t stop. He’ll just keep on walking.  
  
He will stop because he has to see Esca. Has to see him once more. Just once more.  
  
Marcus keeps walking and counts the street lights as he passes by until he reaches the block of flats on the second corner.  
  
Third floor window.  A light.  
  
And Marcus is on the stoop, breath puffing out in frozen clouds. Finding the right name and pushing the button.  He can’t hear the buzzer from outside. Hits it again.  
  
Just once more. He has to see him once more.  To see Esca.  
  
To beg. To plead.  
  
Marcus leans on the buzzer and doesn’t think about the hot tears mixing with the sleet on his face. He doesn’t think about annoying the neighbors as he buzzes again, yelling Esca’s name against the wooden door.  Pounding on it and yelling  and dear God he knows he’s quite a sight but just can’t stop himself.  
  
But there is no response. Nothing.  
  
He’s doing well. Marcus thinks this to himself as he turns away from the silent door. He’d forgotten, but he’s doing well and he doesn’t need to be here. Sniffling, squeezing his eyes shut for he briefest moment before heading back into the street.  
  
One foot on the wet pavement and a cab pulls up. Marcus doesn’t even pause, taking a deep breath and turning back down the road. Toward his own flat.  
  
Except Esca steps out of the cab- alone- and stands frozen on the sidewalk. Staring.  
  
Marcus stares back. Everything he wants to say is lost. Gone. Speechless and immobile as Esca takes a step toward him. Another and another.  
  
And Marcus can’t breathe, can’t swallow past the lump in his throat, as Esca slides his arms around him and squeezes him tight. Presses his face against Esca’s cheek, feels Esca’s warm shuddery breath against his neck.  
  
Both shaking and shivering in the icy rain.

* * *

Marcus wakes early morning. Grey light on his eyelids, quiet bird chatter outside the windows.    
  
Confused, aching.  Hungover.  
  
And alone.  
  
Even with his eyes still shut, Marcus knows this isn’t his bed. Not his flat. Everything smells like Esca. Surrounded by his scent; soap and dryer sheets and coffee.  He pushes his face into the pillow, body shifting slightly on the sheets and realizes he’s been stripped of everything but his underpants. Blankets soft against bare skin, layer of stale sweat and dried rain water lingering on his body.  He’s too tired to feel more than vaguely uncomfortable about it.    
  
Marcus can’t quite remember last night. After Esca dragged him inside and up two flights of stairs. He remembers being too cold and his face being too hot and the world tilting into blackness with Esca’s vodka tainted breath washing over his cheek.  
  
Sounds from the outer rooms.  Footsteps approaching, light click of the door. Air sweeping across Marcus’ face, draft carrying a stronger whiff of Esca. Marcus forces his heavy lids to crack open, blearily looking through his lashes at the figure now kneeling at the side of the bed. Bare torso, familiar blue pyjama pants. Keeps his eyes open as Esca’s warm hand brushes through his hair.  
  
Esca looks as though he wants to say something. Marcus widens his gaze and waits anxiously. Not sure what to expect.  
  
“ We... need to talk.” Esca’s soft voice, lilting accent.  He seems tired, as tired as Marcus. Circles under the grey eyes, a stiffness to his motions. As though he’d slept fitfully, if at all.  
  
Marcus barely nods. Simply listens and stares helplessly. Desperately hoping. Esca’s hand continues to comb through his hair. Marcus is afraid to turn into the touch, afraid that any movement might cause Esca to stop.  He doesn’t exactly know what he’ll say to Esca. Isn’t sure what he might have said last night.  
  
Esca’s palm cups Marcus’ cheek, fingers caressing the top of his ear. “ Later.”    
  
Marcus nearly whines as the warmth leaves his face. He watches Esca get to his feet. Watches those finely shaped hands pull the pyjama pants over Esca’s hips, loose fabric falling easily to the floor.  Completely bare.  Marcus moves clumsily on the bed as Esca climbs under the blankets. Rolls onto his back and whimpers quietly at Esca’s weight pressing him into the mattress, half hard cocks pressing through the thin material of his underpants, Esca straddling his hips.  Grey eyes above him. Beautiful, needy, apologetic grey eyes and Marcus reaches up to take that handsome face between both hands and pull that mouth down to his own.  
  
He can’t believe this is happening. This can’t be happening because Esca walked out of his flat seven months ago and never came back. Marcus never expected to see Esca’s face again, much less be touching him, holding him, kissing Esca with a desperation that would normally shame him.    
  
Without any thought, keeps the kiss going, Marcus pushes his hands along Esca’s sides.  Grabs weakly at his hips. Pants heavily, breathing uneven.  Grinding their cocks together and Esca gets a hand between them to pull on Marcus’ pants. Marcus pushes his hand between them also and together they get his underpants pulled down to his knees. With a bit more wiggling, Marcus gets them entirely off one leg and merely tangled around his other ankle.  He doesn’t bother with them anymore.  
  
Hot flesh growing sticky with sweat, musky fluids.  Marcus shivers and gasps as Esca rubs the pad of his thumb over the tip of his cock, smearing, slicking through the hot liquid beading up. He pushes his head back into the pillow and lets Esca have free reign. Kissing, sucking, biting at his chest. Teeth scraping across his nipples.  Marcus squirms under the onslaught. Reaches down, fumbling until he gets his lover’s cock in his grip.  Tugs and squeezes.  Grins at Esca’s surprised whimpers.  Loses the grin when Esca pushes his face into the crook of Marcus’ neck and shoulder. Hot tears mixing with the sweat.  
  
That slim body writhing on top of Marcus, against him. Rubbing frantically. Sobbing silently.  Just needing to feel skin against skin, the heat, the friction.  Esca needing the connection just as badly as Marcus.  And Marcus takes both their cocks in one hand, squeezing them together as he strokes in a faltering rhythm.  Tightens his arm across Esca’s back, cards his fingers into the sweaty hair. Holds Esca’s head against his shoulder and pushes his own face into his hair, mouth pressed against the cropped ear.  
  
Tighter, faster, hot, hot, hot...  
  
Esca’s nails digging into his bicep, body jerking. Explosion of wet heat over Marcus’ hand, his belly.  Esca hanging onto him while he shudders and gasps.  
  
Marcus pulls twice more and every muscle in his body tightens and snaps. Flashes of red behind closed eyelids.  More sticky heat. More gasping breaths.    
  
He rises slowly from the dark lethargy of post-orgasm, flexing his fingers and carefully slipping his hand from between their bodies.  Marcus feels wrecked. Beaten. Exhausted. Shaking. Slides his sticky, cum covered hand into the small of Esca’s back. Caressing.  
  
Esca is still crying, silently. Trembling all over.  
  
Marcus continues to hold him close. Pets Esca’s short hair, brushes soft kisses against his temple.  His eyes are dry, all the tears bled from him last night when Esca was the strong one, holding Marcus together.  
  
Now it’s Marcus’ turn. To soothe. Comfort.  
  
To be the strong one.  
  
And he knows they still have to talk. So much to discuss.  
  
But not for a while, yet, and Marcus is content to simply lie here, loving Esca, until they both fall into unburdened sleep.  
  


**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos' and comments!!!


End file.
